


A Kingdom for Krab

by c0cunt



Series: The Crab-Verse [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, House Hunting, drunken acquisition of a house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/pseuds/c0cunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ymir and Historia have been getting into more arguments the further along Historia's pregnancy gets, the longer they stay in their one bedroom apartment that's too small for just the two of them.  After Historia goes to spend the night at a friend's place, Ymir decides to get some work done while slowly emptying their stash of alcohol...Which was probably a very bad idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even remember why this idea happened. Originally I wanted it to be for Jean and Marco, but then I realized it couldn't work with what's happened so far in the Crabverse. So, these lovely ladies are up for it.

  Ymir was...Very much not having a good night.  She and Historia had, once again, been fighting.  It wasn’t really a major thing to be fighting over this time (at least, in Ymir’s mind:  Wanting to know if your future child was a boy or a girl  _ was _ a pretty big deal, and she wanted to know even though Historia didn’t), but there she was, alone and surprisingly drunk in their apartment after Historia had gone off in a huff, saying she needed some space to cool off.  Ymir had texted Armin to make sure that Historia had gone to spend the night at his and Eren’s apartment (she had, and Ymir had spent ten minutes thanking Armin for being so kind as to let Historia take his bed for the night), but now...She was alone, and work emails had been piling up a little bit from their overseas suppliers.  Ackerman Fish Emporium, while not largest aquatic specialty store, was well known for carrying exotic creatures as well as helping their customers order directly from suppliers if they needed something that they didn’t usually stock.  Ymir had just sent off an email confirming a new order for a shipment of marimo moss balls (those things were really popular as of late), and was thinking about calling it a night as she downed the last of her beer while her inbox refreshed.  However, the newest email in her inbox was marked urgent, from an importer that Ymir felt was always fair with their prices, who was apparently panicking.

_   Mrs. Reiss-Bodt, _ the email started, making Ymir’s heart swell with pride once again at having had the luck to marry the most perfect girl in the world, before she focused and continued to read the email.

 

_ Mrs. Reiss-Bodt, _

_ I know it’s super late at night where you are _ (it was only 2am, it wasn’t that late, in Ymir’s mind) _ right now, but I was wondering if you could possibly help me. _

_I had a buyer for_ ** _10,000_** _pounds of seafood, mostly_ ** _crab_** (Ymir couldn’t help but flinch instinctively at that word, those three months of suffering still fresh in her mind four years after the fact) **_and_** **_other shellfish_** _, but our buyer called an hour ago to say that they had gone bankrupt, and could not pay for it.  So now I have a shipment of seafood that I_ ** _need_** _to sell.  We’re willing to sell for just_ ** _$25,000_** _to pay for transporting_ ** _from Seattle, Washington_** _.  As always, quality of the product is assured, and attached is an accurate statement of poundage and type of seafood in this shipment.  Do you know of anyone who would be interested?  Please help!_

_ As always, _

_ Ms. Ral _

_ \- Wings of Freedom Importers - East Asia Division - _  
  


  For a minute, Ymir stared blankly at the email in front of her.  Then her brain kicked into drunk logic, as she opened up a tab and checked her’s and Historia’s joint savings account.  The total was sitting prettily at $26,492.57, as it had been for a while as they both worked hard to make a very competitive down payment on a house together...The house search had been going on for almost as long as they had been married, only really becoming a priority with the baby on the way.  But it’s not like they could  _ decide _ on a house anyways.  Historia was in love with Cape Cod style houses, while Ymir wanted something that didn’t make her think of her grandmother’s house (with a not-so-secret love of A-frames).  It had become a running joke in their friends at this point, that they would never be able to settle on a house...So why had they saved up so much money still?  Historia liked seafood, and Ymir wanted to make her happy, and food makes everyone happy, right?  Sasha would wholeheartedly agree with that logic, Ymir thought as she slowly typed a response to Ms. Ral’s email, nodding decisively as it was sent away.

  While Ymir waited for a response, she decided to go see what else there was to drink in the apartment.  Historia had compromised with her, saying that up until she was six months pregnant, Ymir could keep whatever alcohol in the house that she desired.  But after that point, the most they would keep until their child was older would be the shitty, weak beers they had had when they were in college (with the rare bottle of wine or two, possibly).  Which, in Ymir’s mind, gave her just enough time to clear out her stash of rum, that she was now poking through.  It wasn’t a large stash by any means, but she did return to her laptop with a bottle in hand, filling her empty water cup that had been sitting nearby absentmindedly as she refreshed her inbox again.  Another email from Ms. Ral was waiting, which Ymir opened after taking a few minutes to set up the proper money transfer from her savings account.

 

_ Mrs. Reiss-Bodt, _

_ Thank you so much!  I knew we could count on you to help!  Once your payment is processed in the morning, we will be more than happy to have your cargo shipped immediately to the address you listed.  If you have any other questions about your seafood, please let me know! _

_ As always. _

_ Ms. Ral _

_ \- Wings of Freedom Importers - East Asia Division - _

  
  Ymir couldn’t help but feel proud as she refreshed the savings account, already sending off an email to the bank to assure them that the change on their account was legitimate.  Then she reopened the first email from Ms. Ral to look more closely at the attachment, humming as she added all the numbers up.  The value in crab alone was worth more than the money Ymir had spent on it.  Hell, if Ymir was to just go by the numbers that had been accurate last month, the thousand pound of sea bass was worth more than what she had paid!  Historia’s seafood cravings would be completely satisfied for a long time…

  Oh, shit.  Ymir felt the smile on her face slide off as she suddenly remembered her wife.  Her five month pregnant wife.  Who had gagged in the supermarket when they walked past the seafood department together not even two days ago.  Who would probably throw an absolute fit when she found out that Ymir had just spent their hard-earned money on a bunch of fucking  _ fish _ when it was supposed to be a down payment on their future house.  Shit.  Ymir was completely and utterly fucked.  It’s not like she could really go back on her deal with Ms. Ral, especially on a deal  _ that good. _  Ymir gulped down the cup of rum as her sloshed brain tried to think of a solution that wouldn’t involve sitting on a pile of seafood for several months.

  “Ffffffffffuck,” Ymir whined as she slapped her head down onto the keyboard.  There was no way that she could fix this immediately.  Historia was going to be so fucking pissed when she looked at their account.  Oh fuck.  Ymir rolled her head slightly so she could look up at the computer screen, mindlessly scrolling past the emails that were still unread, before calling it quits.  The one email she did open was one of the many starred ones from Historia, with a link to a house that she had her eye on.  With three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, and almost 1,900 square feet of newly renovated space, on a very spacious corner lot, Ymir’s only issue with the place was that  _ it wasn’t an A-frame. _  But, it was a Cape Cod, and Historia loved Cape Cods...Fuck.  It wasn’t like they could even get the house anymore.

  Ymir continued to look at it though, drinking her rum straight from the bottle now.  There were a few new photos of the place, which included photos of the newly renovated walk-in closets in the master bedroom.  Which...One of them definitely looked like it could be used as a nursery...Ymir lifted her head off of the laptop to look mournfully at the box for their child’s crib in the corner of their living room.  Their one-bedroom apartment was too small for them + baby, hell it had been too small for just the two of them to begin with.  Maybe they should’ve waited until after finding a house and buying it to go through with the in vitro...Hindsight and all, they couldn’t go back at this point.  But a baby did deserve a better home than a crib shoved into the corner of a living room...And the homeowners had noted in their house’s listing that they would consider all offers…

  Sitting up a bit straighter, Ymir made another decision.  She clicked on the “contact agent” button in the corner, and took a large gulp of her rum (the last of that bottle) before she began to compose her email.


	2. Chapter 2

  Hangovers are fucking terrible, Ymir decided, as her headache and the all-encompassing need to vomit were what had made her wake up.  Thankfully, she was able to at least tap down that need until she was in front of the toilet, where she stayed for at least five minutes, pressing her face against the cool porcelain for a moment before slowly pulling herself together again.  Historia would probably be coming home soon, after all.  Ymir needed to prove that she was a responsible adult who didn’t really care about what gender their child would be (even though she really  _ did _ care, if only to prepare herself for all the gendered bullshit that would be coming their way).  Speaking of responsible...She should probably check the two emails she had heard ping in while she had been hunched over the toilet bowl.  It took a few minutes to convince her body not to throw up the second that she stood, and it took a few more until she reached the couch that her laptop was perched in front of.  But she did eventually make it, refreshing the inbox and squinting at the emails that were labelled “high priority”.  The older one was from Ms. Ral, so Ymir clicked on that one first.

 

_ Mrs. Reiss-Bodt, _

_ Our banks have processed your payment, and now your seafood is on its way!  Attached is the shipping route your seafood will be taking, from  _ **_Seattle, Washington_ ** _ , as well as other legal documents that will be presented to you upon your shipment’s arrival.  Thank you again for helping us in our time of need!  _

_ As always, _

_ Ms. Ral _

_ \- Wings of Freedom Importers - East Asia Division - _

 

  Well...That was...Something.  Ymir wasn’t quite sure what to make of that at the moment, so instead of thinking about it, she checked the newer email.

 

_ Dear Mrs. Reiss-Bodt, _

_ Thank you for your interest in 104 Pinecrest Ln, Trost.  The sellers of this house are interested in thoroughly looking over all offers on the house, and they may possibly contact you directly for more information on what you have offered.   _

_ Will be in touch. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Zeke Summers _

_ \- Titan Realty _

 

  Well, that...Fuck.  Oh no.  Ymir hid partially behind her hand as she looked through the emails she had sent and received last night.  Fuck, did she really spend  _ all _ of the money she and Historia had been saving to put a down payment on a home?  Judging by the bank statements and email records, she had.  But...She had also sent an offer on a home in?  What seller would look at all offers?  What did Ymir even have left to offer?  Curious, she opened the email that she had sent Mr. Summers earlier that morning.

 

_ Dear Mr. Summers, _

_ My wife and I are interested in the house at 104 Pinecrest Ln in Trost.  She has been eyeing this house for the past three months it’s been on the market.  However, we did not think we had a strong enough offer to place on the house.  But I’m here with an offer that may interest your sellers:   _ **_10,000 pounds of seafood_ ** _.  Attached is a copy of the shipment of seafood I am offering for the house, as well as a rough estimate on current market prices on what it can be sold for.  Unfortunately we would be unable to cover closing costs, but I firmly blieve that our offer is worth the cost of closing. _

_ I do hope your sellers for 104 Pinecrest Ln truly are seriously considering all offers, as I am very serious about this offer.  We both just want a home where we can raise our future children together. _

_ Thank you for your time. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Ymir Riess-Bodt _

  
  Ymir let her head thunk against the bowl several times in a row as she reread that email.  That was just...What even the fuck?  What seller in their right  _ mind _ would look at an offer on a house for fucking seafood?  Miserably, Ymir tugged her phone out of where it had been wedged between two couch cushions, and texted Sasha to tell her to accept a delivery from her and to have it put into the industrial freezer.  Mentally she started going through what places she  _ knew _ she could sell the seafood to, knowing there was a profit somewhere, but not exactly up to the processing power her brain needed to be at to problem solve.

  Almost without her permission, Ymir looked at the house’s photos again.  God, it was still so pretty.  It was perfect for their growing family.   _ Fuck, _ did Ymir really want this to work out.  She distantly heard a ping from her computer as she stalked away, hiding herself in the kitchen to pace.  Pacing usually helped calm her down, and what she really needed to be was calm.  

  Once she had found her chill, Ymir settled back on the couch, and promptly lost her chill as she opened the newest email from Mr. Summers.  She hid behind her hands as the email loaded, not even noticing the front door jingle open with the sound of Historia’s many key chains clanking together.

 

_ Dear Mrs. Reiss-Bodt, _

_ The sellers of 104 Pinecrest Ln, Trost, (Rico and Anka Brzenska), are more than excited about your offer on their home.  If it is convenient for you and your wife, they are offering to give you both a private tour of the home before scheduling an inspection and proceeding to complete the paperwork.  Congratulations!   _

_ We will be in touch. _

_ Sincerely _

_ Zeke Summers _

_ \- Titan Realty _

  
  “Ymmie?  Is something wrong?”  Historia’s voice jolted Ymir out of her open-mouthed staring at her email.  Blinking rapidly, Ymir looked at Historia blankly.  She looked almost half asleep still, with her golden hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head, appearing more concerned as Ymir still didn’t answer her.

  “I...I think I bought us a house?”  Ymir said uncertainly, looking between her wife and the screen.  She was shoved unceremoniously out of the way as Historia came to see exactly what Ymir was talking about, digging her glasses out of her handbag.  Ymir saw Historia’s eyes moving, reading the brief emails, her jaw slowly dropping.  Eventually, Historia sat down on Ymir’s lap with a laugh that was somewhere between hysterical and elated.

  “I have no clue what you did, Ymmie, but holy shit!  You bought us a house!”  Historia squealed as she threw her arms around Ymir’s shoulders.  Ymir let out a laugh as well, unsure about if she should even say anything about the  _ fucking seafood _ she had bought.  Maybe some other time, she thought, gently letting Historia’s hair down and combing her fingers through it.  Maybe Ymir would tell her after it got to Sasha’s house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazz hands*  
> Ymir does eventually tell Historia about the seafood, but probably only after they get a phone call from Sasha screaming in terror about how there's so much seafood at her house and that she needs Ymir to sign for it.


End file.
